Bathunt
by Robinator5263
Summary: When Nightwing comes out of retirement for 'one last mission', things go horribly wrong and Dick Grayson has to find out who is targeting the Bat-Family before they are all killed. (Note: This is in my Dead Robinverse, where Tim Drake is currently Robin and Jason Todd stayed dead.)


PROLOGUE

The ditch was muddy.

That was the first thing that ran through Dick Grayson's mind when he woke up.

"Bruce."

Dick tried to scramble to his feet, but found he couldn't. He was in extreme pain, probably because he had fractured two ribs and broken one. Dick had also dislocated his arm. He popped it back into place with a groan. He slowly stood up, his breathing haggard. Dick staggered forward a few feet in ankle-deep mud, then fell to his knees in anguish at what he saw.

In the place of what had once been a defining object in the Gotham City skyline, Wayne Manor, there was a still-smoking crater. White specks, probably ash, were still falling. Dick fell into the crater, not caring anymore. His mask had been completely blasted off, and his costume had tears on the arms and chest. When he finally stopped, at the bottom of the crater, his hand fell on something rectangular and slightly singed. He picked it up to look at it.

It was a card. A joker card, with two, simple letters in red.

HA.

The white specks weren't ash. They were joker cards.

The calling card of the maniac who had finally killed Batman.

I

Richard Grayson was mad.

Furious. Inflamed. Infuriated. All words that fell short of what he was feeling. This little "suggestion" of Bruce's was just as much a good idea as asking Bane which bone would put a guy out the longest.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to help you 'one last time' against the most murderous psychopath that's ever made a Robin bleed?!"

"Erm…" Bruce said, "Well, yes. And this is actually the last time. Be glad I'm not making you Mr. Boy Wonder again. This Drake kid is about to out-detective me! Me!"

"Would you drop that nickname? Just because I made the dumb decision to put on that mask doesn't mean the logo is branded into my shoulder!"

"It certainly was tattooed there. Probably the first year you were Robin. I knew you snuck out, Mr. Stealthy."

"Well, I don't have the money to get it removed, but if I could've, I would've. Besides, not having a lot of money is what separates me from you, so I'm pretty grateful." Dick gestured to the rest of his small apartment. "I've grown attached to it, so don't be asking me to move in again."

"Maybe later. Now, you need to decide if you're going to do what you want, or what you need." Bruce said with utmost seriousness. "Do you want to be a wussy for the rest of your life? A 'normal guy'? Because that life is boring as crap. You know it, and I know it. So man up, and start thinking about what you need, instead of what your little fantasy working man self _wants_."

Dick stood still and looked at his toes.

Then he punched the richest man in Gotham in the face. Bruce didn't even look surprised.

"I knew you wanted to do that." said Bruce, rubbing his jaw.

"You don't get it, do you? I'm leading an actual life here. You're asking me to give all this up, just so I can go watch hundreds of people get killed? You're insane. Completely. Although, I guess that's what it would've taken to keep fighting this insane fight for all these years."

"I tried to stop. I really did. After Jason's death, I just didn't think I could do it anymore. But you know what? _That's_ what drove me insane. Seeing the murders, robberies, genocides, suicides that happened _every day_ that I could have stopped. I could've saved 20 people in those ten days. 20. From death, robberies, whatever. That's what drove me insane. Knowing that I didn't do _anything_ , and as a result, there were 20 more victims in the world."

Dick sighed. He flopped into his La-Z Boy and went into deep thought.

"sigh Fine. One last time. I could use the exercise."

Bruce grinned. "One last time. I told you."

"Shut up."

They shook on it.

II

"There haven't been any sightings of the Joker or his gang for the past 60 days, which either means he's in hibernation for this long friggin' winter or he's planning something big. The largest target for this 'scheme' of his would be the gala for Gotham's centennial that the mayor's hosting. Every important person in Gotham is going to be there and including, I assume, a few uninvited guests. I will be attending, and you will be my escort."

"Have you ever noticed how boring you are when you brief people? It's like listening to Siri give you a synopsis of _V is for Vendetta_." Dick interrupted.

Bruce sighed. "I have half a mind to throw you off of Wayne Tower. You should be way more mature than this at 27."

"Yeah, because my friends still make fart jokes. Bruce, if I had friends-"

"You've got Oracle."

"That's… She's… It's complicated. Long story short, we're not exactly on speaking terms. She's actually the reason I quit."

"Then I need to give her a beatdown. You were doing good things in Bludhaven."

"Didn't I mention that I'm only coming out of retirement once?"

"You're 27. You're too young to be 'retiring'."

"sigh You're hopeless."

"One of my better traits."

Dick smacked his palm into his forehead, then stood up from his chair at the Batcomputer.

"I've been meaning to ask you something…" Dick said. "What am I going to be wearing?"

"It's a black-and-white, formal gala. You'll be wearing a tux."

"You know what I mean. …Under that."

"Underwear, hopefully."

"WHICH SUIT? WHICH SUIT WILL I BE WEARING?"

"Just wanted you to say it." Bruce walked over to a display case to the right of the Batcomputer. It held Dick's old Robin suit.

"Oh, please, no. That thing was WAY too drafty around my… area."

Bruce knocked on the glass encircling the suit. A holographic keyboard appeared, and Bruce typed a password in - NIGHTWING. The Robin suit slid into the floor, and another suit came up to replace it.

It was heavily armored, but only on the shoulders, chest, gloves, boots, and neck. On the rest of the body there was light armor, but nothing that impeded movement. Emblazoned on the chest and onto the shoulders was the Nightwing logo, but in red instead of blue. The mask was exactly like Dick's old one. To the side was a staff.

Dick whistled. "Where'd you get this stuff?

"Lucius Foxx down in Wayne Enterprises. He does all my stuff."

"Makes sense. Only your company would have the money to build all _this_." Dick gestured towards the suit. "May I?"

"Knock yourself out."

Dick emerged minutes later in full garb.

"This… This is amazing! Fully armored, and yet I can move around! This Foxx guy outdid himself."

"He does it all the time." Bruce said with a smile. "Now get moving. You need to be at Barbara's house in 15 minutes."

"Wait, wait… Barbara? Barbara GORDON? No, no, no. Are you _serious_?"

"Very. I'm also serious about the time limit. You've shortened it to 13 minutes with your little rant. I have a bike that can get you there in five, if you want." Bruce opened the garage.

"Nice."

"You're telling me. Now, get there, and remember the time of the gala."

"Wait, it's _tonight?_ "

"Yup. Got a problem?" Bruce said sarcastically.

"If Barbara has anything to say in it, then yeah. She was the reason I retired, remember?"

" _QUIT._ And yeah. Just remember to get your romantically confused butt to City Hall at 8:45 sharp."

"Yeah, yeah, disciplinary action, blah blah blah. If I come with a black eye, you know who to blame."

"Mm-hm. Just be there."

III

It didn't go well.

The news that he had returned to crimefighting, even for only one time, had gotten Barbara so ticked that she kicked him out. Not literally, of course.

"I really thought you could stay away, Dick. I really did. It appears your will isn't even strong enough for that."

"Barbara, it's only one time…"

"No, it's not, Dick! And Mr Big Pockets Wayne is counting on that. He's a great guy, but he has a hole in his heart that only you came close to filling. He needs you, Dick, in a way that you never needed him."

"I- I'm sorry. I can still turn him down-"

"Oh, no! I wouldn't dare dream of disturbing his big master plan with something as lowly as your physical needs!"

"Babs-"

"Just go, Dick. Just go."

When he got to City Hall, his timing was impeccable, as he was timed exactly with Bruce's arrival. After several minutes of drinks and hors-d'oeuvres, the mayor made a toast that turned out to be a speech. When several hours had passed, Bruce invited everyone back to his place, after he had notified Alfred.

"So, Richard… It is Richard, right?" The mayor asked.

"Yes sir, but please, call me Dick."

"So, Dick, what is your relationship with Mister Wayne?"

"Well, Mister Mayor, my parents were-"

A voice boomed over the party, disturbing all conversations. A familiar voice.

"Hel-lo, Gotham's finest! Joker here. Now, I could very well ask for a ransom for your lives, but I thought I'd work in a little puzzle! There is a bomb hidden in Wayne Manor. A very secret, secret place! A place only my friend The Batman can find! He'll have to do it quickly, too, because in 10 minutes, it will go off! Killing everyone in the building, and some others, too! That's my challenge, and to step it up a notch, I brought in some friends!" At that statement, each doorway was filled with Joker henchmen. "Good luck! Joker out."

The inhabitants were in panic. There was a bomb hidden in the house, only one man could find it, and now Bruce and his ward had disappeared!

Jim Henson smiled beneath his clown mask. Unlike the others, Joker had found him in Arkham while sharing a cell. Now, he was doing what he loved. Terrorizing the city that had destroyed his sanity.

He heard a muffled 'Mmmf', and turned to his partner. Or, where his partner used to be. He started to speak into his radio, but after one word, everything went black.


End file.
